


Arachnophilia

by misura



Category: Original Work
Genre: Giant Spiders, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-19
Updated: 2019-04-19
Packaged: 2020-01-16 15:32:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,349
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18524407
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/misura/pseuds/misura
Summary: In hindsight, trying to impress the local primitives by pretending to be a god had, perhaps, not been the wisest course of action.





	Arachnophilia

**Author's Note:**

> spotted this in the tag set and couldn't resist

In hindsight, trying to impress the local primitives by pretending to be a god had, perhaps, not been the wisest course of action.

Things had seemed to go well at first, but after the feast to celebrate his arrival on earth, he had found himself staked out in spider-country with a pounding headache and a severe lack of clothing. It hadn't taken the spiders long to find him, and now here he was.

At least the webbing kept him nice and warm, even if it also rather restricted his movements. Plus, after three nights and as many feedings, the odds of ending up as spider-dinner seemed to be shrinking at a steady pace.

Instead, it seemed he was to end up either spider-fucked or spider-fucker. Both options held a certain appeal. Spider-fucked would make for a nice cautionary 'do as I say, don't do as I do' morality tale part of the movie, whereas if the spiders wanted him to fuck them - well. He'd like to see Mr I-Slept-With-All-1001-Concubines-of-the-Dread-Undead-Emperor-and-Lived-to-Sell-the-Movie-Rights top _that_.

(Of course, to the wider public, the visuals would be less appealing, but his reputation - ah, that would be a different matter! He might even get a weekly show out of the deal.)

 

He tried to never think too much about what he was being fed. It filled his belly and kept up his energy; no need to know more. Likewise, the clear and tasteless liquid they gave him that was almost certainly (not) water, seeing as how they seemed to exude it from a certain part of their anatomy.

His nursing spider for the day chittered at him, and he tried to make some appropriate gestures of thanks. The webbing made it rather tricky.

The spider chittered again, coming closer, and he realized that this might be it - a thrilling scene where Our Hero Conquers a Tribe of Giant Spiders (with his dick). If that wouldn't get the movie's rating up to R, he didn't know what would.

The webbing tightened, pulling his legs apart and leaving him in a position that made him mentally revise his first impression: this was going to be an educational, Why Not to Try to Bullshit the Locals scene after all, with just a tiny hint of kinkiness, because whose sexual fantasies _hadn't_ involved getting tied up and taking it up the ass from a giant spider at some point?

Apart from Mr I-Discovered-the-Long-Lost-City-of-Atlantis-and-All-I-Got-Was-This-Jewel-Studded-Crown-and-Heaps-of-Treasure, of course.

His dick twitched. Happily, that was one part of his body the spiders hadn't webbed. Not quite the significant clue he'd assumed it to be at the time, but still.

Something thin and small nudged at his asshole, before sliding inside, which was - surely that couldn't be it? He tried to turn around, to tighten around the thing, to do something, anything to improve the experience. Alas. It felt like being fucked with a pencil - a very long pencil, admittedly, but also one that was far too thin for him to get off on.

 _You're getting fucked by a giant spider,_ he told himself. _Enjoy it!_

His dick had gone flaccid again, in a clear sign of disagreement.

Then, of course, it started raining.

 

By his count, the pencil-fucking had lasted about ninety minutes. It hadn't been humiliating or excruciating or titilating in a vaguely wrong sort of way. It had just been boring. He'd had more exciting times waiting in line for a cup of coffee.

Sure, the whole idea of being held immobile with his legs spread for a giant spider's pleasure made for a nice set-up, but with no follow-through, it was all rather disappointing.

When the spider withdrew its pencil-dick at last, he didn't even feel relieved. Something soft slithered down his leg - spider-come, he presumed. Oh well. It would wash off the next time it rained.

The spider chittered at him, probably telling him all about what a great fuck he'd been, the best fuck ever, and it'd be telling all his friends and come back tomorrow or the like.

 _I got fucked by a giant spider and all I got was a sense of ennui._ Well. Spun right, that might sell some t-shirts, though he'd have to be careful about making it clear the fault lay with the spider.

The spider that hadn't left. The spider that, now that he paid a bit more attention, seemed to be gearing up for round two.

_Oh well. It can't be any worse than the first time._

As always, he was right.

 

He knew things had changed right away: what was pressing against his asshole this time was a lot bigger than a pencil. The pencil hadn't done much of anything in the way of stretching or preparation, meaning that this was probably going to hurt.

(His dick didn't not like that idea. Getting fucked by a giant spider _should_ hurt.)

When it slid inside of him, slick and smooth and pretty damn big, he knew that even if it hadn't felt like much, the pencil-dick had still done something. Lubed him up, maybe. That would make sense. Quite why that should have taken as long as it had, he didn't know, but then, maybe the spider had wanted to be sure. It might never have fucked a human before.

(Did giant spiders fantasize about fucking humans, as humans did about being fucked by giant spiders?)

No boredom this time: this felt like a proper fuck, all right. His legs were pulled apart a little further, as the spider-dick pushed its way inside of him as far as it would go, before withdrawing and pushing back in again, a little deeper this time, stretching and filling him. He didn't think he'd be able to take it all the way; it was too big, too thick, and he was only human, but the spider seemed intent on trying.

He heard himself whimper, as it pulled out nearly all the way. His dick was leaking pre-cum, and he knew that if only it kept on going, he would come, spilling his seed all over the webbing, his body clenching around the magnificent spider-dick that really was just as good as he'd always imagined it to be, or even better, given that this was real, not some sort of fantasy.

The spider bit him, and his body suddenly felt like it was on fire, burning up, and then he felt its dick slide home all the way, and he realized that what had come before had been nothing; just more foreplay, more getting him ready for the real thing, which was _this_ : burning and being split wide open and filled and sobbing and begging the thing to stop, stop, stop.

It didn't, of course. Not for a long time.

 

Regaining consciousness, he felt sore all over. His head hurt as if he'd been doing some heavy drinking the night before.

All in all, it could have been worse. So reality hadn't quite lived up to fantasy: what else was new? He still lived to tell the tale. He'd make his escape some time the following week, spend some time editing his story, deciding what approach to take ('I Spent Two Weeks as a Sex Slave to a Tribe of Giant Spiders'? 'Something Funny Happened While I Was Looking for the Lost Ruins of Mu'?)

He opened his eyes to look around for anything useful and caught sight of his stomach. He closed his eyes, took a few deep breaths and looked again.

The view hadn't changed.

So. That had happened. Impregnated by a giant spider. A tiny giant spider inside of him, growing eight tiny giant legs, one tiny pencil-dick and one tiny giant spider-dick.

He'd probably have to stick around until it was born, and then take it with him as he left. Teach it human speech and how to use a fork and such.

He imagined walking up to people, old friends and enemies, and telling them, all casual-like, _Oh, and have you met my son, the giant spider?_ Their faces would be really something.

That would show Mr. I-Gave-the-High-Priestess-of-the-Death-God-Six-Orgasms-in-Two-Hours-Without-Even-Trying up but good.


End file.
